The Wounded Breakfast
A huge shoe mounts up from the horizon, squealing and grinding forward on small wheels, even as a man sitting to breakfast on his veranda is suddenly engulfed in a great shadow, almost the size of the night . . .
He looks up and sees a huge shoe ponderously mounting out of the earth.
Up in the unlaced ankle-part an old woman stands at a helm behind the great tongue curled forward; the thick laces dragging like ships' rope on the ground as the huge thing squeals and grinds forward; children everywhere, they look from the shoelace holes, they crowd about the old woman, even as she pilots this huge shoe over the earth . . .
Soon the huge shoe is descending the opposite horizon, a monstrous snail squealing and grinding into the earth . . .
The man turns to his breakfast again, but sees it's been wounded, the yolk of one of his eggs is bleeding . . .
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